


i'm a loose bolt of a complete machine.

by vintage_misery



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, M/M, Minor Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V, Minor Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, Misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending (because it's me), because he is very touch starved, choi san and jung wooyoung are soulmates (do not separate), extremely background min yoongi/park jimin, jung wooyoung needs a hug, mutual pining (because it's me), the maknae line makes an appearance, they make me want to put my hand in a blender and eat glass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:07:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25659475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintage_misery/pseuds/vintage_misery
Summary: what a match, i'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 6
Kudos: 92





	i'm a loose bolt of a complete machine.

**Author's Note:**

> God these two. I don't have a whole lot to say other than these two have complete consumed my brain. I got the inspiration from Wooyoung's diary concept photo and a selca that San posted and my brain blurted out this.
> 
> Special shout out goes to Sarah and the ateez discord for letting me yell at them while writing this.
> 
> Title and summary from _Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes_ by Fall Out Boy because I'm entirely predictable.

_Summer_

He first sees him in the dying days of summer, when the air clings like a second skin and it smells like the city, people, and new beginnings. The world seems to weigh heavily on him, lingering in the way he sits, in his dark clothing, in his hair.

He’s sitting by himself, students passing him by, but he doesn’t seem content. He fidgets with a long dangling earring and stares down at the thick textbook in front of him, half-empty water bottle next to his hand.

He looks resigned.

He looks lonely.

He...is looking right at San.

San startles, just barely catches himself from knocking over his coffee cup and ducks his head utterly embarrassed, feeling the blush rising up his neck, from both being caught staring and because holy fuck, he’s beautiful.

The boy just stares at him, impassively, and raises his eyebrows. San grins sheepishly and chews on his lip, looks down, and wonders.

 _Who is he? Why does he look so lonely?_ His mouth twists sadly. _Why does he look so okay about it?_

And when Yeosang flops down in front of him with a loud groan and San looks up again.

The boy is gone.

-

In the week that passes, San looks for him. Looks for the too dark clothing, the ponytail, the little lonely cloud of beautiful boy. Tries to find him in a crowded lecture hall, in an empty hallway, across the courtyard where he first saw him.

He’s standing on the table’s bench, on his knees, trying to peer over Yunho and Mingi’s heads (why are they so _tall_?) into the crowd of chattering students, once again trying to find any glimpse, even if it’s fleeting, of a dangling earring.

It’s like he’s disappeared.

(But that couldn’t be further from the truth.)

“Don’t you think that it’s entirely possible that you’ve developed an obsession?” A beat. Then: “ _Ow_. Hwa that _hurt_!”

“Hongjoong, don’t be rude,” Seonghwa’s hand is braced along his lower back, finger tucked into his belt loop to give him support, “Showing interest in something doesn’t mean anything. San just wants to get to know him. Not that you would know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I show interest in stuff!” Mingi and Yunho boo him. “Fuck off you two.”

Yeosang snorts, “When was the last time you showed an interest in _anything_ that wasn’t music or Seonghwa-hyung?”

Suddenly, San spots that elusive head of dark hair and scrambles to his feet, cutting any retort Hongjoong has off and planting a hand on Jongho’s head who swats at him with Seonghwa’s hands wrapped around his hips. He wants to call out to him but knows he can’t because that would be weird.

Also, he doesn’t know his name.

So, he watches him walk through the crowd, slipping between people, like he doesn’t exist. He’s hunched inwards like he’s afraid he’ll take up too much space in his dark tee and jeans and San’s heart hurts.

It hurts for this beautiful, sad, lonely boy.

Seonghwa tugs San down, tumbling the younger boy into his lap and wrapping him up in one of his all-encompassing hugs, “Oh San-ah. My sweet, sweet Sannie.”

San feels their friends crowd around them and feels loved. Feels strangely selfish, like he should share.

Like something’s missing.

-

(Wooyoung dreams.

He dreams of bright lights and music.

Dreams of laughter and tears and aching muscles.

He dreams of a smile brighter than the summer sunshine.

He dreams and dreams and wakes up disappointed.)

-

(The moment they lock eyes, he knows.

This boy, with the dark hair and the expressive eyes and the red cheeks and that dimpled sunshine smile, belongs in the summer.

And though his summer boy doesn’t see him, Wooyoung sees him. Sees him brightly laughing, dimples winking and eyes sparkling, with his friends as they rough-house on the lawn outside the student center. Sees him, earphones in head lightly bobbing along, as he studies in the library. Sees him constantly scan the crowd, eyes searching, looking for something.

Someone.

Wooyoung lets him look.)

-

Newton’s second law of motion states that “a body at rest will remain at rest, and a body in motion will remain in motion unless it is acted upon by an external force” and while San, a Literature major, barely understands physics when Jongho tries to explain it to him; he does understand this: things don’t move (or stop) unless you make them.

In this case, the body in motion (San) is acted upon by an external force (The Boy. Capital letters needed) when they smack into each other (literally) heading into the dance studio.

They both hit the floor in a tangle of limbs and backpacks and San’s breath _whooshes_ out of him as the boy’s weight lands squarely on his chest.

For a brief moment, San is too stunned to do anything but wheeze helplessly on the ground while Yeosang and Yunho laugh at him. The other boy jerks backward and, for the first time since the day in the courtyard, they lock eyes.

He has a freckle under his left eye and San is entranced.

He scrambles to his feet and, after a moment of indecision, holds his hand out. San wraps his fingers around the boy's wrist and, with a sharp tug, is yanked to his feet.

There is a moment where neither of them move. Where time seems suspended, where the world is boiled down to two boys and the way their hands fit together.

"Alright, minions buckle up."

"Taetae, you can't call them that."

And just like that, the warmth in San's hand disappears.

(Wooyoung doesn’t want to let go)

The boy chews on his bottom lip, collecting his bag from where it had fallen, and slinks to the back of the room. He hunches his shoulders, like he wants nothing more than to disappear into the mirrors behind him, and fidgets with his hand.

“Hyung, this isn’t even your major. You can’t order our students around.”

The first boy grins brightly, tearing San’s attention away, and presses a loud smacking kiss to the boy’s forehead, “You’re right Guk-ah. I’m late anyway, I’ll see you two later at home. Love you!”

He disappears out the door and the thirteen students are left looking at:

“Hi, guys. I’m Park Jimin and that blushing mess is Jeon Jeongguk. We’ll be your TAs this semester.”

“Hyung!”

-

The next time San sees him in their shared class, he works up the courage to stand next to him. 

They don’t talk, instead choosing to work through the choreography that Jimin and Jeongguk have shown them while San ignores the faces that Yeosang and Yunho make in his direction.

(He may discreetly flip a middle finger at them every so often.)

Jimin stops to watch them for a moment, asking them to run it again individually when they falter (he’s so _intimidating_? _)_ and they do it again, this time flawlessly.

He smiles and says before moving on, “Good job, Wooyoung.”

_Wooyoung. That’s his name. Wooyoung._

Jeongguk starts speaking and San doesn’t hear anything but:

_Wooyoung. Wooyoung. Wooyoung._

He makes his move after class while Wooyoung is shoving his stuff into his backpack, “Uh hi. Wooyoung?”

He jerks like he’s been stung and San scrambles to make it okay, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to say that I was sorry? For running into you last week. And that you’re a great dancer. And that.” He trails off because holy shit, _this is so awkward_.

Wooyoung blinks at him and tilts his head a little, that dangling earring dipping towards his shoulder and suddenly San has the extremely perverse thought of putting his mouth under that earring. “It’s okay.”

“Huh?”

The other boy looks slightly amused, “I said that it’s okay. I think it was my fault for running into you anyways. And thank you for your kind words.”

“Oh. Uh,” San shuffles on his feet, trying to find the words, any words but this isn’t _like_ him. He’s good with people. He likes making them feel comfortable and like they belong. What is it about this boy that has him so off-kilter? He finally sticks his hand out and says “I’m Choi San, it’s nice to meet you.”

Wooyoung allows just the barest of smiles and shakes his hand, “Hi Choi San, nice to meet you too. My name is Jung Wooyoung.”

\--

_Fall_

It’s an unusually brisk day in October when San flops down in front of Wooyoung, dressed in a massively large hoodie he stole from Yunho and a beanie he’s pretty sure is Hongjoong’s. The leaves are starting to change colors, signifying that winter is barreling down on them, that the world is getting ready to go to sleep, to start over. 

He might be born in the summer but San would like to say that fall is his favorite season. The air _smells_ different, smells fresher, like it’s getting ready to rain. People are starting to bundle up in hoodies, scarves, jeans, and coats. Comfort is starting to be more of a key factor rather than secondary thought.

He just loves fall.

Wooyoung hasn’t noticed him yet, headphones in and head bent over his notes, and so San tucks his hands under his chin and just. Looks.

They’re friends. Or at least, they’re somewhat an approximation of friends. Or they’re much closer than they were a month ago. There is still a lingering heaviness to Wooyoung like he yearns for more but doesn’t know how to ask for it, like he wants to do more but is afraid to do it, and San does his best to draw out the small smiles and tries to find that brightness that tumbles out when Wooyoung dances. When Wooyoung _does_ smile, it feels a lot like victory.

“So. Do I have something on my face?”

“What?” San blinks and shakes his head at the half-smile on Wooyoung’s face, “No. Sorry, I spaced out. What are you studying?”

Wooyoung stretches, “Psychology. I supposedly will be having a pop quiz at some point this week according to a classmate.”

“How can it be a pop quiz if you know about it?” San asks and laughs when Wooyoung shrugs.

“Beats me. She just found me and was like ‘pssssst could have a quiz’ and I wasn’t going to complain.”

San snorts and tucks himself further into his hoodie, “So.”

“So?” Wooyoung leans forward, hair dipping into his eyes. He shakes it back and San’s brain short-circuits. He legitimately has forgotten words. He knows two languages and partially a third and _what are words_?

Holy mother, Mary of Jesus Christ, his hair is _down_. In the entire time (a month and some weeks) they’ve known each other, Wooyoung has had his hair pulled back into a ponytail. Sometimes he wears a headband or bandana and San dispairs a little ( _a lot_ the little voice that sounds like Yeosang says) but this?

This is something _so much worse_.

Wooyoung with his hair down is devastating on San’s fragile heart in ways he wishes he could explain. He was beautiful before and he’s beautiful now but there is something unbelievably gentle about how Wooyoung looks with his hair down. He looks softer, younger with his hair just barely brushing his cheeks; San watches him tuck a piece behind that ear with that stupid earring.

“-an-ah? San?”

San shakes his head, embarrassed, “What?”

“Are you okay?” Wooyoung looks concerned, “This is the second time you’ve done this.”

He sighs, “I’m fine. Um. My friends want to meet you.”

Wooyoung freezes, “They what?”

“Want to meet you. They won’t bite, I promise.”

-

(The truth of it is this:

Maybe Choi San doesn’t just belong in the summer. Maybe he belongs to the fall too.

Because he tumbles after Wooyoung in too big hoodies and stolen beanies, not unlike a puppy, looking soft and cuddly with blonde hair and brown eyes and those dimples and that ever-present sunshine smile.

Because he brings Wooyoung coffee and tea and scones and doesn’t ever push him to give more than what he’s comfortable with.

Because he treats what Wooyoung does give him like little victories, like what Wooyoung is is enough, like Wooyoung is enough.

Because he makes Wooyoung feel seen.)

-

When San brings Wooyoung to meet everyone, it goes about as well as he thinks it will.

Meaning: it’s complete chaos.

Luckily, Wooyoung already knows Yeosang and Yunho from class but there are three other people that Wooyoung looks slightly wary about.

Both Seonghwa and Hongjoong about trip over each other to get to him first while Jongho, stressing that he’s the _normal_ one, follows at a much more sedate pace. Wooyoung skitters backward until he bumps into San who grips his arms.

They haven’t gotten their shoes off yet.

“Could you two not? I told him you don’t bite!”

Hongjoong stops crowding them, “But we don’t! Or at least, no one but each other!”

Seonghwa smacks his boyfriend while San drops his head between Wooyoung’s shoulder blades and groans.

Wooyoung starts giggling. At first, it’s a subtle sound before it grows and explodes out of him. He makes to muffle the sound but San’s grip on his upper arms doesn’t let him. And soon, everyone follows suit.

It’s the first time that San’s heard him laugh, those contagious high pitched giggles, but he doesn’t say anything. Just smiles against the flannel of his shirt and listens to him laugh.

(At the end of the night, Seonghwa walks Wooyoung outside. He doesn’t live far from their apartment building and he wouldn’t let San walk him home but the oldest member of their little group insisted on walking him outside.

Wooyoung tries not to feel impending doom.

Instead, Seonghwa hugs him. It’s stupid but it lights him up on the inside. A simple touch that feels so much more. It feels like finding family.

“Listen, Wooyoung-ah. Come over anytime, okay?”

“Okay, Seonghwa-ssi.”

“Call me hyung.”

“Okay hyung.”) 

-

“Um. Jimin-sunbaenim?”

“Oh San, how can I help you?”

San feels weird for asking this, especially with Jeongguk standing right next to him, but he’s having difficulty with the choreography.

“I’m having problems with some of the choreography and I was wondering if you could help me.”

Jimin and Jeongguk trade a look, a secret language of eyebrows only they know and leaves San wishing he could decipher just a little, that has Jeongguk nodding and grabbing his things.

“Bye hyung! Bye San-ah!” He turns to wave at them, “I’ll tell Taehyungie-hyung you’ll be home late!”

Jimin smiles after his friend before turning that smile on San, who dies just a little on the inside, “So. Choreography?”

-

And so, they work on choreography. Jimin helping San smooth out the problem areas because it “isn’t so much that you’re having problems, it’s just that you’re not allowing yourself to feel through those sections. Does it have anything to do with the fact that these are with a partner? Because he’s very cute.”

He absolutely does not laugh at San when he falls over at the question.

And so, San spends most of his free time with Jimin. Sometimes Jeongguk is there, offering a different viewpoint.

(The one time Jung Hoseok was there, San couldn’t move. “It’s just Hobi-hyung,” Jimin had said.

 _Just Hobi-hyung, my ass._ He’s terrifying.)

And so, San unintentionally pulls away from his friends.

Pulls away from Wooyoung.

(He tries not to let it hurt.

But after all, fall is just the early stages of decline.

He should have seen this coming.)

\--

_Winter_

Snow blankets the city in a world of white and the cold blows in and San realizes that he hasn’t spoken to Wooyoung outside class in a month.

It wasn’t intentional. 

He’s been working with Jimin on mastering the choreography and, on top of his other classes, somehow Wooyoung got shoved aside. 

San feels awful.

He tries to get Wooyoung's attention but it's like they're at the beginning where Wooyoung's walls are so high that it feels like climbing a mountain.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whines after class one day to Jimin and Jeongguk (and apparently Taehyung) as he watches Wooyoung slink out of class with Yunho and Yeosang on his heels, “he ignores everything I do. I’ve sent him like fifty text messages and he’s left me on read!”

“Have you, oh I don’t know, said ‘I’m sorry for being an asshole’?” Jimin says as he brings his head up from where it’s pressed to the floor.

San just gives him a dirty look.

“I’m just saying. Apologies go a very long way.”

He shoves his foot in Jimin’s face, indicating he wants him to stretch it, “It sounds like you have a lot of practice with that, hyung.” Jimin tugs his leg backward, “ _Ow_.”

Jeongguk and Taehyung snicker from their cuddle pile against the mirror and Jimin throws an empty water bottle at them, “Shut the fuck up. You have no room to talk.”

“Gukkie and I never fought though,” Taehyung says, “So really. It’s just you.”

Jimin just sighs, “Seriously little one. Just talk to him and tell him you're sorry.”

San looks at the ceiling and nods because something tells him that sounds easier than actually physically doing it.

-

He’s right.

Apologizing to the friend you’ve accidentally shunted to the side is so much easier in theory than actual action.

Mostly because he can’t fucking find him.

It’s like the summer all over again, only worse because Wooyoung’s become a ghost. And to make matters even worse, his friends won’t help him.

“You’ve seen him?” Hongjoong just stares at him. “Hyung, _please_!”

“Yes, I’ve seen him. Hwa and I took him to lunch the other day. You’ve done quite a number on that boy.”

San feels tears spring to his eyes and he hides his face in his shirt sleeves, shoulders caving in on themselves. He doesn’t deserve to cry, doesn’t deserve to feel anything but remorse for the pain he put (continues to put) Wooyoung through. Regardless if he meant to or not, he did the one thing he promised himself he wouldn’t do: he left Wooyoung alone. He left this boy, this boy so desperate for love, for friendship, to fend for himself.

Hongjoong must take pity on him because he feels arms slide around his waist and he’s tucked into the older boy’s side. And despite their height difference, San slumps down and burrows into Hongjoong’s warmth and feels like the worst person to exist.

“I know you’re sorry. And that you didn’t mean to. And that you just want to apologize and that you know it’s not going to be that easy,” he says into San’s temple, “I know I was an ass about this when you first saw him but you really like him, don’t you?”

San just nods.

“He’s going to be in the library tomorrow studying for his chemistry midterm.”

-

San walks into the library the next day and sees him bent over his textbook and it feels like that day in the courtyard. That day feels like it’s a million years ago and it feels like they’ve a million steps backward and it’s all because of San’s stupidity.

He takes a deep breath, walks over to his study table, sits down, and just waits. He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to startle him, because this moment feels far too fragile and too important to fuck up now.

Wooyoung drags his eyes from his book and looks impassively at San who gently smiles at him. He raises his eyebrows and sighs, sounding distinctly unimpressed with San’s presence. San’s smile wilts a little.

He knew this was going to be a challenge.

“Hi Wooyoungie,” he says and tucks his hands inside his coat sleeves, “Um. I just wanted to say.”

(Wooyoung tries not to be endeared by this boy and his sweater paws and the small indents where his dimples live.

He tries to tell his heart to calm down at the first flash of that sunshine smile.)

San opens his mouth and the words don’t want to come out. How do you ask for forgiveness? Does he even deserve it?

“San-ah,” Wooyoung slams his book shut making San jump, “If you’re just going to waste my time, I’m going -”

“I’m sorry!” San cuts him off, desperate to not let him leave, “I’m so sorry that I’m a shit friend. I asked Jimin-hyung to help with the choreography because I was having problems with it. And then homework started piling up and then I looked up and it was a month later and I know I fucked up. I’m not asking for forgiveness but I just want to know that I’m so so sorry.”

Wooyoung blinks at him, “You. Were practicing choreography?”

San just nods, still breathless from the word vomit.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was embarrassed!” San says, “You’re so good at dancing and I was having trouble with it. And I don’t know.”

“You’re an idiot,” Wooyoung leans across the table and flicks him between the eyes, chuckling when San whines, “I thought you were dating Jimin.”

San rubs his forehead, “Jimin-hyung? Gross. I mean he’s hot but he’s dating some music production grad student.” 

(Maybe he forgives him too easily.

Maybe he misses him too much.

Maybe he just loves him.)

-

It’s not easy.

But San is determined.

Because Wooyoung is worth it.

-

(Picture this:

The snow is falling and the boy you love is tumbling through the drifts like an overgrown puppy. The flakes cling to his clothes and his hair and his nose and cheeks are red. He’s drenched but he doesn’t care. His laugh, high-pitched and contagious, echoes through the cold-bitten air and it fills you up with warmth. He turns and aims that smile, that summer smile, at you and you grin, helplessly, back.

Wooyoung watches his sunshine boy, his autumn boy, in his bright yellow coat and a black beanie, tilt his head back with his eyes closed, lashes resting on his cheeks, the snow falling gently on his face. Wooyoung pulls his phone out of his pocket and snaps a photo: a body at rest, a boy - even it’s unknown - well-loved.

He sets it as his wallpaper.

Wooyoung grabs San’s hand, “Come on. Let’s get you warm before you catch a cold.”

Later that night, San falls asleep in Wooyoung’s lap with his hands in his hair.)

\--

_Spring_

Spring explodes onto campus in a riot of colors and a joy that the weather is turning warmer after such a long and bitter winter. Students are taking to the sidewalks, content to enjoy the sunshine, to study outside, and take in that the world is once again awakening. The city feels new and fresh, ready to take on the world, ready for new adventures.

Much like fall, San loves spring. Much like fall, spring has an element of fresh air but it smells like rebirth. And much like fall, spring has Wooyoung.

Things are different. It’s like since their reconciliation, San can’t keep his feelings to himself, that they’re too big to shove back in their box. He didn’t really keep them hidden, only chose to keep them muted so Wooyoung would be comfortable around him, but now they seem to explode out of him at every given moment.

“You’re drooling.”

San starts and wipes his mouth, “I am not.”

Yeosang snorts and taps his nose, “You’re staring again. You gonna stop being stupid and make a move sometime soon?”

“It’s not that easy.” Yeosang raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “It’s _not_!”

And it’s not. Because what he feels for Wooyoung is so much bigger than his body and his messy heart and his stupid brain and at what point do you risk it?

At what point do you risk a friendship, the foundation of San’s life because at this point, Wooyoung has become so intertwined with him that he doesn't know where he begins and Wooyoung ends, for something intangible?

San sighs heavily and looks at his half-eaten lunch, suddenly not hungry anymore.

“Hey.” He looks up at Yunho, who smiles at him gently, “Take your time. We just want you to be happy.” He nudges Yeosang who nods, “We’re here if you ever need us.”

San practically flings himself across the table at his friends, smothering them in a hug, ignoring Yeosang’s yelp when he knees him in the stomach.

-

In the end, he doesn’t make the first move.

In the end, he doesn’t even see it coming.

In the end, it’s pretty perfect.

-

It’s been raining for three days and even he, someone who tries to find the good in everything, is sick of it. It’s dreary and grey and the lack of the sun has drained him of energy.

He’s lounging in Wooyoung’s apartment, watching some drama, clad in a stolen hoodie and sweatpants when Wooyoung, dressed similarly and hair down ( _god_ ), flops down on him. He props his head up on San’s chest and just looks at him.

Since the beginning of spring, Wooyoung has been far more affectionate with him. It’s like the season tore down the walls he’s built and he’s unafraid to be freer with his emotions and his touches. There is still a little bit of a hesitation with the rest of their friends but San’s just glad that Wooyoung’s gotten to this point.

He tilts his head down and brushes a piece of hair behind Wooyoung’s ear, “What?”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Wooyoung rolls to sit at his hip and San struggles not to lament at the loss of his warmth.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it’s, like, raining,” he stretches, arms raising above his head, hoodie rising with the movement. He tugs it back down.

(It’s brief but Wooyoung’s eyes are drawn to that small sliver of skin.

It takes everything in him not to kiss him right then.

He decided a while ago that he’s done waiting.)

Wooyoung rolls his eyes and stands up, holding out a hand, “So? Live a little.”

San takes his hand and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

Anything for this boy.

-

The rain has died down to a drizzle and the sky has lightened from its dark grey to a light grey like the sun is struggling to come out. It’s quiet as they walk hand in hand and maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.

San tucks his nose into his hoodie and a jacket he stole from Wooyoung and feels content like he could do this for the rest of his life. Just walk with Wooyoung by his side, not talking, just existing. He squeezes the hand in his and smiles secretly when it squeezes back.

They walk in silence for a few minutes before that hand tugs San to a stop. San turns to look at Wooyoung who’s fidgeting nervously with the ring on San’s index finger.

“Wooyoungie?”

Wooyoung drops San’s hand, San trying to conceal the hurt at the action, and rubs a hand over his face, “I don’t know if I ever said thank you. For being my friend. For giving me a home, a place to belong. When I started school, I felt very alone and, for a long time, dancing was the only thing that made me happy. But now…” He trails off.

“But now?” San prompts, smiling a little.

Wooyoung just stares at him, eyes roving over his face like he’s cataloging his features, like he’s memorizing his face, like his next step is going to push San away.

Because his next step is this:

He fists a hand in the front of San’s stolen jacket and tugs the other boy close, swallowing San’s startled noise with his mouth.

It’s not a graceful kiss. San’s too caught off guard to do much more than stand there, hands still at his side, and Wooyoung pulls back quickly, chuckling wryly.

“Sorry. I’m not that great with words but I really like you Choi San,” his tongue runs over his bottom lip, “Actually. I’m in love with you.”

 _That_ startles San into motion and he darts forward to grab Wooyoung by the hips, “You what?”

They’re both damp and starting to get uncomfortable but San _doesn’t care_ because Wooyoung just kissed him and told him he loves him. “You _what_?”

“I love you. I love you so much,” Wooyoung smiles and thumbs at the tear that’s slipped down San’s cheek, “How could I not?”

"You. You," He rests their foreheads together, “God, I love you.”

It starts raining harder when they kiss again, two figures blurred by the downpour, but it’s perfect.

Because it’s _them_.

-

So yeah. San loves spring. And summer. And fall. And the winter.

He loves getting to hold Wooyoung’s hand during the day and sleeping next to him at night. Loves sharing sleepy kisses.

He just _loves._

(Choi San belongs to all the seasons.)

**Author's Note:**

> [moodboard](https://twitter.com/thiswasadream/status/1289731196981837824?s=20)   
>  [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0yay973HkkGItWxUysynhk?si=xe5krz_lRbGmk3DxNV0vbg)   
>  [twitter](https://twitter.com/thiswasadream)


End file.
